Regret
by Alis Volat Propris
Summary: Set before the last charge in the perspective of Prince Caspian and his thoughts of Susan as the battle rages and his regrets.


AN: I couldn't help it. I was watching Prince Caspian and I fell in love with the Caspian Susan pairing. Possibly the only non C.S. Lewis canon, movie canon pairing I love.

_No.. No, please! _Prince Caspian thought as he watched the tiers above them, above her fall. He watched frozen, transmute, as she stumbled, tumbling off the side of the cliff. She had caught the dwarf's hand but only momentarily, as she slipped through his grasp, before descending upon the rocks at the base of their crumbling fortress. It was bad enough that the entrance to their fort had caved in, that he and King Peter and the others left on the ground would be forced to fight to the death. Prince Caspian had accepted it. He had accepted all of this, had accepted his fate gladly. He would not sit back and watch his people destroy the Narnians as he could not sit back and watch the Narnians be destroyed by the Telmarines. He was tired of comparing and second guessing himself at every turn. This was what he was supposed to do. He was Caspian, not High king Peter, not King Edmund or Queen Lucy...or Queen Susan.

He wasn't a hero, could barely be called a prince, but he could do no other than what he was doing now. But he felt keenly responsible for it. He had expected this to happen, having known the telmarines and how deep the lines of hatred and jealousy drew within the king and his council. They were badly out numbered, and cornered. There was no other way for this battle to go. It was his fault. He had accepted that too. This fight had already brought enough tragedy enough death at his carelessness...but _not_ her. He couldn't bear this. It was too heavy. Suddenly the price for war, the price for this battle seemed too costly. He couldn't. He choked. He couldn't take it if his careless mistakes, mistakes he'd seemed to be making his entire life lead to _her_ death. To see her life snuffed out like some old candle. Couldn't bear to see her die. Not like this. Not like him.

Behind her cold demeanor and calm complexion, Beneath her steadfastness and all her wisdom and chidings with her siblings, beneath the weight and obligation of responsibility and nobility that she carried...Susan; she was a girl, a teenage girl, like any of the other girls he had seen wandering about the palace. She shouldn't be here. And that notion had hit him most fiercely when she'd first arrived. She was a queen, a legend and a myth in her own rights, but she was flesh and blood...and beautiful. And she was far too young to be in a situation like this. He was far too young to have this sort of thing thrust upon him, but he had taken courage in light of these children, the kings and queens of old stepping into roles he could hardly imagine, could barely manage. It had forced him to rise to the occasion. Their strength, Her strength had given him courage to rise to the occasion.

But he could not help the harsh guilt that flooded him as he watched the battlefield. This was his fault, his doing. He had summoned them, had brought them here out of desperation. None of them had ever asked for this, to become leaders of a rebellion against the telmarines. What had any of the siblings done to earn such a weight upon their shoulders? He had brought them here, so desperate for help, so alone in a fight that should have been his. If he had been stronger then this wouldn't have happened.

She shouldn't be fighting. She shouldn't be dying. She shouldn't be forced into a situation like this, a situation he had put them in by summoning them, by summoning her. Moment by moment he had begun to realize how very important she had become to him. When she had sacrificed herself for the sake of her sister getting to Aslan and he had saved her. He shouldn't have brought her back to the battle, though the feel of her pressed against him as they rode back to the battle, the exultation he had felt at saving her life had been worth it in the moment. He should have told her to run, to flee while she still could. He should have sent her after her youngest sister. He should have taken her away from this, forced her to listen to him, though she would have fought him, insisting on being with her siblings till the bitter end.

He should have done something, anything but this. Not left her to his fate, to die on the battlefield. He exchanged a frightened glance with Peter as they watched in muted horror. He had keen understanding in that look shared between them of what Peter was feeling. And he knew without a doubt that Peter felt the same as him by that frightened glance. The high king and himself had exchanged several scathing words before this entire battle had taken place. When the raid upon the palace had failed, when he had almost given into the witch. Both of them had. And Caspian had seen a look in Susan's eyes that he had never wanted to see again. The look of disappointment, sorrowful anger that he couldn't bear. It was when the two had made amends. His father had taught him that it was bad blood to go into a fight with hatred amongst him. Caspian made amends, but had never apologized to Susan, too ashamed of what he had done, of how he had fallen in her eyes, to seek her out.

Peter and he were the same, in so many ways. Though concerned for his sister, the high king didn't hide his feelings in that one unmistakable look. They both were prepared to do what needed to be done in this battle and if that was to sacrifice their very lives fro their mistakes, then so be it. But the life of one beloved sister to the high king, and the life of a woman Caspian had come to admire, blossoming into love without him ever really understanding it, it was too much. Peter had sent off Lucy to find Aslan, but he had also sent her away from the majority of the fighting and Caspian had known it and allowed it. But Susan... Peter didn't want her here, hadn't wanted her to fight in this, had expected her to be with lucy. Peter didn't want her to die here either in that once exchange of frightened glances and it was the regret that they both shared equally that broke him.

The weight of Prince's Caspian's guilt beat down upon him fiercely. He was weighed down by the crushing grip of that regret, the regret and the burden they both shared. He felt like someone had punched him in the gut and he was breathless in that moment. They would die here, and more importantly she would die with them. If she had died from that fall then she wouldn't die from the battlefield. Wouldn't die being crushed by the catapults or having a sword run through her. He felt sick, quesy at his own disturbing thoughts. He didn't want her to die. Didn't want her to die painfully. But she was the help he had summoned, with her own horn. She was a Queen..... _Susan.._.

The crumbling ruins of their entrance into the fort stood before them and she rose to her feet. She was evidently unhurt, a fact that though his tumultuous thoughts were divided on, he was grateful for in the moment. She was alive and unhurt for the moment, however long they had left. She walked towards them, a look of muted horror at the battlefield around her. He had subjected her to this, forced her into a place, a time, a world she didn't belong in. And yet selfishly, he was glad she was here, for there was no other that would inspire him to fight more, no other that he would gladly die for, die with.

He turned to face the battlefield, pulling himself together. There was no walking away from this now. He drew his sword. As he sensed her comforting presence behind him he felt the guilt wash away. There was no one else he would rather be with, to fight with, and if need be to die with, protecting. She was worth protecting even if it cost him his life. He could hear her reaching for her arrows in her quiver. He didn't have any more time left. He wouldn't die regretting anything.

"I'm sorry" He whispered to her solemnly. "I should have never brought you here" He told her his accent heavy as he hung his head.

Piercing blue searched deep within his eyes. "Please Caspian...Don't be" She told him, lifting his head to look at her. Caspian regarded her with wide eyes, astonished.

"Because I'm not" She told him simply. "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. With my family, with you" She told him, rose color blooming, the faint pink hue dusting across her creamy freckled cheeks, at such a startling exclamation.

He swallowed painfully, nearly choking at her admonition, their eyes exchanging a thousand words, a thousand things they should have said, would have said, could have said had the circumstances been any better. And he nodded in return, swallowing the bitter tang of regret as he hugged her fiercely, brought her close to him.

She smelled like chamomile and wild flowers, and the sweat and grass of Narnia. He held her for a second longer, ignoring Edmund and Peters disgruntled demeanor as the two exchanged glances. His mind, his heart was only on Susan in that moment and he tucked the strands of her lovely brown hair behind her ear. She was a queen, a warrior in her own rights. And he would not shame her by asking her to run, to flee. She was the kind of women who would fight, would die at his side, though he would taste death first before he allowed any to harm her. Peter's sword out, exchanging brief looks of determination with his siblings, led the last charge, breaking out into a run. Caspian, exchanging one last endearing look with Susan, ran out to meet the resounding sounds of battle.


End file.
